


one minute past noon

by rowanthefierce



Series: Western AU [2]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, F/F, Fights, Gen, Guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanthefierce/pseuds/rowanthefierce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wild West Jaspidot AU. Set before Peridot's "reformation" into a sheriff of the local town. Jasper and her group of outlaws square off against a rival band. Originally intended to be an honest fight, it quickly becomes ruthless and brutal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one minute past noon

“Get up,” sneered Jasper’s voice. “C’mon. Are you scared?”

“I am not scared,” muttered Peridot, tentatively shading her face so she could see her leader.

Jasper grabbed Peridot by the collar and lifted her up to that their eyes were level. A wind whipped drily over the clifftop, scattering grit and loose underbrush about. A long moment passed. A bird trilled in the bushes.

“There was no need to push me down,” said Peridot.

“You should know not to show weakness. Especially when we’re about to have a face-off.” Jasper dropped Peridot. Her knees buckled but she straightened up and scuffled back into line along with the other bandits. Jasper flicked the brim of her hat up, a scowl marring her face.

“It’s almost noon, chief,” said a bandit with a long scar coursing down her chin and neck. She cracked her knuckles. “This is better’n a bar fight, eh?”

“Bar fights are good when it’s night,” commented another outlaw, spitting on the dry ground. “Then no one knows who you are.”

“True,” said the scarred bandit, grinning crookedly. “Very true.”

Jasper put her hands on her hips as the faint sound of boots clambering up the rocky gradient became audible. Peridot could hear, around her, the sound of pistols being jostled in their holsters. She hoped no one was getting edgy or anxious.

“You’re late. How rude,” said Jasper the instant the leader of the other band stepped onto level ground.

“A little delay, that’s all,” said the other chief, flashing a smirking grin. A black mask obscured the majority of her face and she wore gloves. Half a dozen or more outlaws stuffed themselves in a strange formation behind her.

“On the hour, I said.”

“So you did.”

“We had an agreement. Now—”

The other woman seized her pistol and fired off a few rounds. One of the bullets buried itself into Jasper’s left shoulder and she clutched the injury, blood already beginning to seep through the fabric. The others hit the ground or sank into trees.

“That agreement’s void.” The masked leader gestured to her group. “Get them.”

Jasper whirled towards her own people. “Dammit! What are you waiting for? _Go!_ ”

There were about a hundred feet between the two groups. The reports of gunfire rang hard in everyone’s ears. Someone in the not-so distant distance shrieked.

Peridot stepped towards Jasper as the others fought with both guns and fists. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse,” snapped the bigger woman. “Thank God she got my nonshooting arm.”

Someone hit the ground next to them, blood pouring down their face from a gash across their forehead. The mask across their eyes marked them as an enemy. Peridot pulled the trigger of her gun automatically. Blood splattered across her boots and the bandit laid still, eyes glazing over.

She turned and faced the battlefield, leaving Jasper to her own devices. The masked leader was throttling someone, face twisted in a cruel grin. The unfortunate victim was struggling mightily, eyes bulging and hands grasping for the masked leader, with no luck. There was still some distance between Peridot and her intended target, so she hurried several paces forward before aiming and firing.

The bullet seared through the masked leader’s forearm, just below the elbow. Almost deadly for the one on Peridot’s side, but fortunately that hadn’t happened. The masked leader screeched and grabbed at her elbow, face screwing up in agony. Peridot began to fire off the rest of the cliff when someone blindsided her. Pain exploded up her wrist and she met the furious gaze of a mask-clad bandit. Then they both hit the dirt with a _thud_ and _crack_ —although in the moment Peridot couldn’t tell if that was something of hers or her enemy’s.

The masked warrior started to rise. Peridot looked down at her wrist and saw her bone through the flesh. Nausea flooded her body and her vision became blurry. She kicked out at the other person, hearing a resounded snap and cry. Ribs. She’d gotten their ribs. The knife they’d used to damage her arm was lying inches away. Peridot rolled over, reaching for it. Around them, people pounded, shouting, voices hoarse, angry, hateful. Her fingers wrapped around the blade, metal digging into the palm of her hand.

“Damn you,” snarled the masked bandit. “Give me that.”

An elbow collided with Peridot’s torso. The latter rolled again, stifling a scream of pain as her exposed wrist came into contact with rough tumbleweed. She still had the knife in her other hand. Through dust and tear clouded eyes she could see the much-less damaged bandit looming over her—

She stabbed upwards with surprisingly strength. There was a choked gargling noise from the other outlaw. Their eyes darted about, protruding slightly. Peridot sat up on her elbows, trying to drive the knife in further. Then her opponent collapsed on top of her, knife buried through their upper torso. Peridot’s fingers burned as the knife blade also cut into her own flesh. She released it and tried to work the body off herself. She couldn’t feel her lower right arm at all. When she tried to look at it, all that was visible was brown and red and white.

This time, she vomited, straight into the bushes. She tried to rise, legs weak, adrenaline and pain shooting through her entire body. Another corpse hit the ground, bullet holes through the head. It was the scarred bandit. Peridot forced down a second wave of nausea. She reeled forward, hand grasping for something to hold onto. She found a tree. The rough bark scratched her already-present injures. She released the tree.

Jasper stepped forward, holding a pistol. Abrasions marked one half of her face and more blood was running down the front of her jacket.

And then rough hands grabbed Peridot’s shoulders and shoved her over the edge of the cliff. She hadn’t even thought she was very close. But air whistled around her as she plummeted. The face of the masked leader registered dimly at the back of Peridot’s mind (she was still strong, even with a crippled arm). And then the sight of her temples being blown out by gunfire. Jasper seized the other chieftain by the neck—a snap—and tossed her back.

Trees rose up to greet Peridot. She collapsed among the dry leaves, lying on the fragile parched branches. Her back ached. A few ribs had to be broken. And her wrist was still a mess.

There was a lapse of noise above. Peridot’s head lolled back. Blackness.

* * *

 

Cold. Ice cold. Peridot’s eyes opened. She was underwater. Bubbles floated up from her mouth. The surface dazzled above her. She reached an arm up and saw blood floating away from it. Right. Peridot tried to move her legs. No luck, for a freezing sort of pain rocketed across her systems.

Hand grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to the surface. Peridot spluttered, coughing up water. She shut her eyes, trying to block out the sun.

“You’re lucky you’re alive,” growled a voice in front of her.

Peridot couldn’t form words. She opened her eyes again, slowly, and saw Jasper staring down at her, also drenched in water and blood. Then the bandit chief dragged her forward, into shallower water. She left Peridot lying on the bank, head sticking out of the shallows and trudged up to retrieve something.

“It’s a makeshift bandage until we get back.” said Jasper. She dragged Peridot up further and wrapped the cleaner insides of a jacket around her wrist. “I can’t do anything for your ribs, not now.”

Peridot mumbled thanks, voice slurred.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Jasper said. “S’okay.”

Peridot shut her eyes again. Her body was already beginning to dry off in her sun. Jasper had managed to remove her jacket and boots, leaving Peridot with just her undershirt and pants.

Behind them huddled the remnants of the group, the survivors of the battle. All bore injuries of varying degrees, all patched with evident homemade care. Some sat, nursing broken arms. One was missing three fingers. The stumps were wrapped with a great deal of fabric, and the owner of the marred hand was looking a little faint.

It would be a slow road to recovery for all of them, not just Peridot. They were, in truth, quite lucky to be alive.


End file.
